No Pillows for Dib Redux
by J. Random Lurker
Summary: AU, future. There are far, far more dangerous things than Zim in the universe: things that crawl through the spaces between stars and minds. One of them wants Dib. Chapter Five: Zim's infested. Rated for SLASH, extreme violence.
1. Shake the Disease

Too soon! This is happening TOO SOON! It was supposed to be LONGER, we were supposed to have more TIME! Ah, how, HOW can this be happening NOW! 

I drag him by the wrist through the halls of my ship. He babbles some stupid protests at me. Why must he ALWAYS complain? Be QUIET, obey!

I refuse to be afraid. I am ZIM, and Zim knows exactly what must be done now!

It must be quick. I have to hurry. So little TIME! Yes, human, NOW. Not later.

I shove him. In here. On the table. Now, NOW! Get ON the TABLE!

Rr.. HUMAN! Stop SQUIRMING!

Computer, restrain him and give me the surgical tools!

I won't take this a MOMENT longer!

Now we put an END to this, Dib-thing...

_Soon you will be mine._

** No Pillows for Dib Redux  
revised from the original   
by J. Random Lurker, 6/2004  
**

----

Dib was naked and wholly exhausted. Sweat gleamed bright on his pale skin, on the backs of his subtly scarred arms and legs. Face down on the metal table he breathed slowly, wrestling for control of his mind, feeling his breath pool under his mouth. The chemicals weighting down his veins wanted him to sleep, but he didn't want to sleep. He wanted, -needed- to be alert... something felt wrong, dangerous. Something was lurking at the corner of his mind...

The operating room had been sealed and sterilized, but Dib could still perceive the faded scent of his own blood, a rusty iron mist lingering around him. Medical control terminals scattered about the room glowed and made strange haphazard alien noises, casting eerie red and bluegreen light around the weirdly curved walls.

Zim radiated smugness like the sun, peeling away blood-stained gloves and shoving them into the mouth of a disposal tube. He stepped around to the head of the table, all smiles. "Be pleased to know the operation was a COMPLETE success. A TRIUMPH of Irken technology over meaty stupidity, as I KNEW it would be. I even upgraded your optic implants, and your atmospheric processor while I was at it. Know that you now see and breathe with the might of an INVADER and be well pleased."

"... too bad the only thing I get to look at regularly is YOU," Dib riposted sleepily, eyelids drooping.

His back was beginning to cool down now. His shoulders were stiff and an uncomfortable -stretching- sensation moved all throughout his spine, a dull and constant irritation. Irken nanites were rebuilding him, tearing up the bone marrow in his spinal cord to feed themselves as they changed the nature of his body. Dib could swear he felt them -moving-, a million tiny insects chewing through his flesh. He wanted to struggle; he wanted to scratch SO bad, reach back and dig his fingers into his back until he drew blood, rip the microscopic alien robots out from under his skin.

Zim let Dib's mild insult pass with a disdainful snort for reply. "Status report, human."

Dib exhaled and sank deeper into the metal table. "... itchy."

Zim shook his head, still smirking as he leaned back. "THAT is why you are RESTRAINED, stupid. I won't allow your primate instincts to mess up my magnificent repair work. The nanites I put in your spinal column need TIME to complete their mission. Any stupid monkey-digging around with your hands scratching at things would just make it take that much longer to heal."

Dib made a face. He clung to consciousness, a stubborn sliver of his mind refusing to let go; something was wrong, stirring just beyond his sight. He felt the inexplicable fear surge and hastily, wearily spoke aloud as much to distract himself as to catch Zim's attention. "Why did you do this to me again?"

"Because you were dying." Zim murmured, arrogant-Invader facade cracking to show a hint of genuine worry show through. He laid cool gloved fingers on Dib's forehead. "Go to -sleep-, Dib."

"I can't." Dib nuzzled his forehead deeper into the Irken's hand. His irrational fear retreated a pace at the touch; the chill of the Irken's fingers felt good against his overheated brow. "Mmmn. Don't leave, Zim..."

Zim indulged Dib, stroking his thumb over the boy's pale brow; his own jangled nerves soothed by the human's submissive display. He would never have admitted it, even under slow torture, but he was far from certain this procedure was going to truly solve Dib's problem.

Membrane's Syndrome. A very unique genetic disorder, named after a very unique human who had been the very first to die from it: Professor Membrane. And Dib was a nearly -perfect- genetic duplicate of his father. Now that he had come of age, the disease would begin to accelerate. It would grant Dib superhuman physical resilience and astonishing mental capacity- but at the cost of halving his rightful life span.

Ironic. Stupid. Utterly pathetic! There was no reason Dib should not keep his mind AND his body both, absolutely no reason at all! He was only 19 in human years, still a SMEET by Irken standards! Zim was not ready to surrender Dib, his ONE success, his one real conquest, to -anything-. He refused to even -consider the possibility-. Dib was his until he died, but he was NOT going to die before Zim LET him die! No... Dib was going to live a thousand years, and Zim would be there for every minute of every day of every month of every year of all those thousand years to torment the human PERSONALLY...

_Yes. He belongs to ME. And I will POSSESS him utterly._

Suddenly Zim felt... deeply uncomfortable, without understanding why. He only knew he needed to be... away from Dib. Far away. Doing -anything- else but standing here watching him breathe... Zim pulled his hand free, frown returning to his emerald brow. He reached for an air injector and pressed the tip into Dib's neck, firing an additional jolt of chemicals into the human's bloodstream.

Dib opened his mouth to protest- _no, don't MAKE me...!_ but there was no use. It was already done...

"GO TO SLEEP, dirtmonkey. Obey Zim! I have more -important- things to do than sit here holding your brains in for you while you complain. The last long range scan put a Resisty ship in the area and I don't think that slimy little Vortian friend of yours has gotten the word out to all of them about us yet. You want us to get boarded in your current condition, DIB?"

Darkness was sweeping in fast now, the second injection bludgeoning Dib into a stupor. He mumbled something and pressed his cheek down, flat to the table as the world slid away.

"I didn't -think- so! The computer will let me know if there's a -real- problem with you, so...eh... be sleepy now. That's an ORDER, soldier!"

Zim's tiny boots clicked sharply against the metal tiled floor as he left the operating chamber.

The door slid closed behind him, and as he moved free Zim found that he was breathless- practically panting aloud. His heart was racing, and there was a sick, twisting feeling deep at the base of his squeedlyspooch like he'd eaten foul Earth food -or worse. He felt like throwing up. A sharp pain rose up behind his eyes, brain throbbing against the inside of his skull, and he touched his fingers to his head, shook his antennae out. It was not anything new; as long as he could remember, he'd had such pains, but this time they were different. They came with fresh fear: fear for himself... and fear for Dib.

The human's flesh had been so deliciously YIELDING to the blade... _so easy to get inside..._

"..c..Computer!" he barked, listening for the tiny blip of sound that let him know it was paying attention.

"Double-security and time-lock to all entrances to the medical wing for at LEAST two hours. NO ONE gets in or out." Not even me. ESPECIALLY not me...

**UHM... OKAY, BUT WHAT IF... **

"SILENCE! DO AS I SAY!" Zim shrieked.

The computer went silent; the only sounds were of the locks in the door immediately to Zim's left snapping into deadbolts.

Zim's breathing slowly returned to normal; he drew himself upright, the stupid fear withering. He felt better. As he took in a deep breath of the cool, recycled air, he suddenly felt eyes upon him, and turned quickly to look.

Gir was sitting on the floor across the hall, tiny metal hands grasping his magnetic-cone feet, swaying lightly back and forth. His head was tilted up, his round green eyes locked on Zim in a blank, unblinking, unrelenting STARE. His mouth hung open, a slight froth of slushy-leftover and drool on his lips.

"GIR!" Zim screeched, glee rising that he now had something else to yell at. "What are you DOING just SITTING there? Were you SPYING on me?! Stop SITTING and ...DO...eh... something that isn't sitting!"

The insane SIR unit built of garbage giggled crazily. "I BEEN COUNTIN' MAH TOES!"

"But you don't HAVE any toes... AUGH, why am I wasting time TALKING to you! Uhhgh... FINE, Gir, carry on with this COUNTING of nonexistent TOES. At least you can't do any DAMAGE that way... oh! Wait, there IS something you can do. A very SPECIAL mission, Gir. The Dib is RESTING now and NOT to be disturbed. I know how much you LIKE the Dib, so how about you stay here and guard him while he is sleeping? Stay in that EXACT spot and do NOT move until I give you new orders. If anyone bothers Dib, I expect YOU to deal with them. Is that clear?"

Gir squealed, clapping his tiny hands together, then flaring into Duty Mode, chest and eyes flashing from green to red. "NEW ORDERS RECEIVED, MY MASTER!" He saluted sharply, then slumped backward against the wall with an audible CLANK, his whole robot body going slack.

Zim was already gone before Gir finished saluting.

---

Master is craaaazy.

I'm crazy too! Hee hee. Sure, we ALLLL crazy. Big head boy all tally and moosey crazy too. I like big head boy. Mmhmm.

But Master's also down with the crazy different like... spooky crazy.

Master was doin' somethin' to big head boy. Cut him up like a steak. Cut cut cut cut.... now he's done. Yay!

Somethin' dirty lives in master's head. Like a smelly kitty! He dunno it's in there, but I can seeee it. It's scary. Big greasy teeth like SCARY CLOWN and eyes going spooky like THIS ooooOOOooOOooo.

Don't like it. S'posed to help master be happy. I gets lots of bad stuff in me so master doesn't have to have bad stuff in him. Looots of bad stuff. Fill 'er up with unleaded dooky for master!

Pssst. C'mere. Seeeecret.

Sometimes... eee hee hee... I wanna kill Master. Big head boy too. Cut cut cut. Break spine throat wade red chop chop quick mmMM! Pretty red all over! ...I like red...

Oops! I better count my toes before they run away again! C'mon back to the toe ranch little buddies! One, two, three, FOUR! Master says I don't HAVE toes, but master ain't got EARS, so who's pot callin the kettle black now huh? HUH?!

...hey, what's behind this door?

----

"How COULD you? How could you possibly DO this?"

_Shut up, Dib_, thought Dib. But Dib wouldn't shut up. He wouldn't shut up! He just kept NAGGING.

The ship pulsated- stardrives humming ten levels below, the hammering of a massive mechanical heart. Air whirred softly into the operating room from the overhead artificial atmosphere filters. The red and purple walls with their curvy sorta abstractions made Dib feel like he was nestled deep inside a body, tucked inside an organ: maybe a kidney, or a spleen. Painful red heat was building up inside his chest; he was sweating, lightheaded.

He was supposed to be asleep. The drugs had worked, hadn't they? Even though he fought... he was asleep now. He was dreaming.

Yes, he -had- to be dreaming, because there was no other way that his younger self could be sitting there. Sitting there frowning at him, perched like a crow on the edge of a console with his little legs in his little black boots and that little black coat and the bland-face t-shirt that he used to love so much.

Dib hadn't worn that outfit in years. He'd outgrown it.

The hallucination cocked his head, eyes caught in wide circles of despair and confusion behind his glasses. Overhead light glinted off the edges of the oversized plastic lenses, making them glow faintly. Come to think of it, all of him was glowing, white with fuzzy edges. He spoke, high and thin and disgusted. "What kind of monster -are- you?"

Dib pushed himself off the consoles to the floor and glowered bitterly up at the man he had become. At everything he'd done and failed to do; at his naked captive helplessness, his battle scars, his lean long frame, the taste of Zim's mouth in his memory.

Even though he was furiously angry there was an appealing softness to the hallucination's features. Lines were missing from his body; he was incomplete, small and pale, an unfinished work. He was a proto-Dib, an unformed soft-dough Dib.

"You ran away with Zim. With ZIM! Our mortal ENEMY! You let him take over the Earth, and you didn't try to stop him! WHY? I was the one who was going to SAVE the Earth FROM Zim! I would NEVER have..." His little body vibrated with the intensity of his feelings of betrayal. "...never... And what about Gaz? and Dad?"

Dib could taste the disgust that his prior-self held for him- true loathing, outright contempt. He felt helpless in the face of it; he was seeing out of both places, both perspectives simultaneously; dizzying, confusing.

Gaz had always been bitter, and cruel, and cold to him. She had disowned him at their father's funeral. Told him she had no brother, moved to another city, even thrown away their family name to start her life over again. Membrane had never been there for him, in grief or joy, and then he was dead, and Dib had never had the chance to say any of the million things he really wanted to. He could only whisper his regrets to his father's grave, and only the autumn wind gave reply. He'd left then, with Zim, for the infinite promise and danger of the stars, and had never looked back again.

Which one was the true Dib? The child? The man? Were EITHER of them who Dib had been meant to be?

_I'm drugged_, he reminded himself. _I'm not thinking straight._

"That's true," his hallucination answered, "but that's no excuse!"

"I don't have to justify myself to you. You couldn't see the bigger picture then, and you're not seeing it now. I CAN. That's the difference between an adult and a child!"

"You're not an adult! You gave up your RESPONSIBILITIES so you could run around FUCKING Zim," the hallucination retorted, the expletive sounding all the more savage from a child's mouth, "You're not me! You're not the person I wanted to be. You're not even HUMAN any more, now! You're ... you're IRKEN, you're SLIME, you're HORRIBLE! I was a -hero-. Sure, I got stepped on, sometimes I felt bad, but I NEVER gave up!"

"I want to STAY ALIVE. You win wars by STAYING ALIVE. YOUR way, no matter how NOBLE or PURE you think it was, would have made me DEAD years ago! Zim would have killed me, and what DIFFERENCE would it have made for the world? NOT ONE. Face it, Dib, WE WERE GETTING NOWHERE!"

"BUT YOU STOPPED TRYING!"

Both Dib and his hallucination began to weep.

"Why are you dragging all this up NOW?" Dib screamed from the table. "Nothing I do now can change the past, and I don't regret what I've done, so why are you HERE? What do you WANT?"

Dib found the strength from somewhere to reach his hand a little toward the hallucination, despite the fact it pulled on muscles that hadn't healed fully yet and the pain made him want to scream and he could feel things being torn open fresh under his skin. The hallucination gave a quiet sniffle and closed the gap, ran to him and slipped close, under his fingers. Dib mussed the black sweep of the child's hair. The young Dib pushed his cheek into Dib's hand and wrapped tiny hands around Dib's wrist.

"Listen to me. You're in danger. Your -best friend- Zim is going to try and hurt you soon, and you won't be able to stop it. That's why you're hallucinating now. It's all been arranged, to make you helpless so you can't resist when it happens. He'll crawl inside your head, and he'll take your mind away. There won't be a Dib any more, not either one of us... it'll just be ZIM, forever and ever, until the end of the world." He raised miserable eyes to his future self in utter soul-anguish. "Is that really what you want?"

Dib's throat caught as the hallucination vanished.

There was something in his hand. He tried to focus. Wetness, nuzzling his palm... small... cold and smooth... huge gleaming eyes peering up at him from the floor... shining white and silver...

_GIR? _

For a moment, he just couldn't make the connection; didn't know where he was or what he was doing. Trapped in a chemically induced haze, the world slid off his grasp like an egg broken over oil. He ran his tongue nervously over his lips. God, it was so hot. He was having trouble keeping his eyes open, the darkness was tugging him down...

Why was Gir looking at him like that, with watery pools at the bottoms of his eye-lenses?

His eyes were so bright...

--- _  
_

_ More to come. Hope you like this new version; amazingly this time there are even LESS pillows than there were in the first one, making the title EVEN LESS RELEVANT! XD _

_jrandomlurker(at)yahoo.com_


	2. Control Issues

Alarms were roaring up and down the halls.

Zim didn't even waste time shouting at the computer; he just extended his four prehensile spider-legs from his pak, formed them into a neat square around his shoulders, and blasted the medical bay's main entrance into oblivion. The Irken frantically pushed through the smoke and stumbled into the room he'd left his human not even thirty minutes before.

Gir blinked up at him from the floor of the devastated room. Stupidly. Blankly. Soaked from ball-antenna to tiny magnetic feet in fresh blood: Dib's blood, which currently discolored several walls and most of the floor. There had been no way for the human to defend himself; his back was split open with laser fire, pink and purple organs and hints of dead-white bone peeking out of his flesh, like a horrible jungle blossom, stinking of ruin.

Zim didn't even blink. He didn't even really allow himself to SEE. He was too ANGRY to do anything but react. He surged forward, decapitated Gir with a savage swipe from one spider-leg's pointy end and scrambled desperately over to the table. He had to grab the end of his uniform and hold it to his face to keep from retching at the smell of burned tissue.

**I TRIED TO STOP HIM, MASTER. I COULDN'T MOVE FAST ENOUGH. BUT... THE HUMAN PROBABLY DIDN'T FEEL ANYTHING...** The computer sounded completely terrified.

"Why is he still HERE ?" Zim raged, "GET HIM INTO A REGENERATION TANK! NOW!"

Had the house's AI been a tangible creature, it would have tripped over itself in its haste to obey. A brilliant blue ray of light instantly swept down from the ceiling, flowing over Dib and transporting him to the sterile safety of an impregnable glass chamber three levels below.

Zim was left alone with the carnage and the ruins of his robot slave. He stood trembling, too overwhelmed with emotion to do anything but stare and gasp in the filthy, blood-soaked air. His eyes fell on the bloody head of Gir and he ran over and grabbed it in his claws and SHOOK it madly, "WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE TALLEST WERE YOU DOING, FOOL?! DO YOU HAVE -ANY IDEA- WHAT YOU'VE DONE?!"

Gir's blackened eyes gave no answer. The robot's mouth hung open stupidly, unhinged.

Zim began to SMASH the robot's empty head into the edge of the table. "ANSWER ME!" KLANG! "ANSWER ME!" KLANG. "-ANSWER MEEEEEE!" On Zim's third strike, Gir's head snapped open, spilling the paperclips and bubblegum and coins that made up his 'mind' all over the floor.

Panting, Zim snarled and hurled the empty head into a monitor across the room, which exploded in a fresh shower of glass and sparks. "I hate you." he muttered, wiping froth from the edge of his mouth with the back of his black-gloved hand. "...always getting in my way... always -interfering-. With your stupid TUNA and your BABBLING.... always BREAKING THINGS. Always KEEPING ME FROM DOING WHAT I WANT! DIB WAS MINE, do you HEAR ME? MINE!"

His fingers clawed and flexed painfully. His eyes spasmed independently of each other. He wanted to BREAK something. He wanted to KILL something. The fury under his skin was cresting, rolling, ROILING, every wave screaming, _dib dib Dib DIB!_ and the headache was rushing back and GROWING now and it had nowhere to go trapped inside him fuming boiling pressure building up in his GUTS, building and twisting and MOVING until he wanted to SCREAM hysterically because it was CHEWING ON HIS BRAIN FROM INSIDE AND HE COULDN'T STOP IT...

"RGhh!" Panicking, Zim seized his own rubbery antennae and YANKED them down, HARD. White-hot pain exploded across his mind, wiping out the world in a searing nuclear flash. As his vision cleared, mental clarity came with it. His thoughts were crisp, sharp, and lethally focused. He was in control. He knew EXACTLY what to do.

He straightened, and his mind stung like a freshly salted wound. "COMPUTER. Clean this mess up, take me to Dib, put GIR back together and TORTURE HIM MERCILESSLY until he EXPLAINS WHY HE DID THIS."

The cool blue light engulfed him, and Zim melted away.

---- _  
A/N: Short chapter. Blargh. Sorry... I should really quit juggling three fics at a time :)  
_

_jrandomlurker(at)yahoo.com_


	3. Voices

**No Pillows for Dib Redux: Chapter Three-- Voices**

"Damage report on the Dib!" 

The words were out of Zim's mouth before he fully finished materializing from the computer's teleportation ray. The tiny alien glowered up at the row of five blue tubes and their bubbling insides- all were empty, except the one directly before him. The one that held his precious human slave. Zim glared angrily at the painful sight of Dib's pale body wrapped in diagnostic equipment and fine metal traceries and wires. Delicate mechanical arms with keen tools were visible now and again, swaying above the curve of Dib's white shoulder as they moved- frantically trying to piece together torn muscle and ruined internal organs. A monitor to the side pinged with a slow but regular bleep- too slow, Zim gritted his teeth, too slow... 

_FILTHY ROBOT! All YOUR fault..._

**SUBJECT IS COMATOSE FROM SHOCK AND SEVERE DAMAGE. SEMI-SPINALIS DORSI, SPINALIS DORSI, LONGISSIMUS DORSI ALL TORN. LUMBORUM ON RIBS TEN AND TWELVE SEVERED. BURN DAMAGE TO THE UNDERLYING BONE STRUCTURE: C9 to T6 ALL APPEAR DAMAGED. BOTH LUNGS PIERCED OR SURFACE BURNED FROM LASER FIRE. ESTIMATED REPAIR TIME WILL BE THREE WEEKS, MINIMUM. ADDITIONAL: THE NANNITES INSTALLED IN THE SPINAL COLUMN HAVE DROPPED TO 35% FUNCTIONALITY. SYSTEM STABILITY CAN NOT BE ASSURED AT THIS TIME EVEN WITH FULL REPAIRS. ALSO. OUR STOCKS OF HUMAN PLASMA AND BLOOD ARE CRITICALLY LOW. URGENTLY RECOMMEND OBTAINING OR SYNTHESIZING REPLACEMENTS. **

Zim staggered back from the tube, fingers fanned, eyes wide. His lips rippled around his teeth; he snarled, swore viciously, and ground his heel into the floor. _When I get my CLAWS on you, GIR..._ "THREE WEEKS? UNACCEPTABLE! Give me alternatives. NOW." 

**UHM... THERE -ARE- NO ALTERNATIVES, UNLESS YOU WANT HIM PARALYZED FOR LIFE...**

"Put a time enhancement field in effect inside the tube! That should speed up the healing process, correct? Replace the damaged muscle with synthetic fiber grafts, reroute as much impulse carriage through the undamaged tissues as you can and install additional processors to the cerebellum and brainstem to manage the load! It's not that DIFFICULT!" 

**It's not DIFFICULT, but... Master, this work is INCREDIBLY delicate and his system's already experienced severe trauma... installing NEW hardware may push him over the edge!**

"SILENCE! You're MY servant! You do what I say! I want him fully operational in a WEEK, do you hear me? ONE WEEK! You do WHATEVER IT TAKES to make that happen!" _I'm beginning to lose PATIENCE. This should have been FINISHED by now._

The computer gave a frustrated sigh. **AT LEAST GIVE ME REPLACEMENT STOCK TO WORK WITH.** The edges of the blue containment tube began to glow a soft lavender- the time field slowly being brought to life, wrapping around the inside of the tube, and its unconscious occupant. 

"We don't have TIME to go get any." Zim shoved his sleeve up, baring the green thinness of his left arm. "HERE. You take whatever FLUIDS you need from MY amazing self and reconfigure them into an appropriate substance for the HUMAN." 

He ground his teeth together as the computer sank a needle into his bicep- roughly, he thought- and closed his eyes as he began to feel his blood tugged backward against his veins... he watched the pink fluid moving up the plastic tube, rising into the ceiling. Rising out of him. 

Zim began to feel dizzy. He struggled to keep his feet, his tiny insectile legs quivering. He fought back, grasping his lower lip between his teeth, staggering where he stood. He was IRKEN, and no WEAKLING; yet deep in the back of his mind something small and scared whimpered, _but Irken blood isn't at -all- compatible to human..._

--- 

_ The needle pulled free, the tiniest wet sound as it left his skin, and Zim turned back to face the tube where Dib slept submerged. Along the curved blue surface of the tube Zim could see his own reflection, a tiny thing at the base of the human's feet. _

He traced around the edge of his own face in the curved blue glass with his fingertip, perversely fascinated by what he saw. His reflected eyes were wide, smeet-bright and round. He was so -small-. 

I hate you. 

His pak pressed something into his hands. Something like a hammer, a ponderous heavy blunt thing. 

I hate you. 

He closed his hand around it, feeling the grip creak under his fingers' pressure. Rage and strength swelled in his arms. 

I HATE YOU! 

He SLAMMED the object, with all his might, into the watery reflection of himself. 

The tank exploded in a bitter shower of fluid and glass shards. 

And behind the shattered glass Dib hung, naked and unaware. 

--- 

**MASTER. MASTER! ATTENTION!**

Zim responded with a dazed mumble, his cheek pressed to the floor. His spider legs emerged from his pak and lifted him off the cold gradiated metal. The tiny alien stroked his antennae for comfort, deeply confused; he didn't remember fainting, but he must have done so. Memory moved hazily through him. The blood loss. Yes, it must have temporarily drained his strength. 

_And behind the shattered glass Dib hung, naked and unaware... _

The alien twisted around on his skittering legs with a gasp, his eyes flaring- but the tube was sealed and smooth, gentle liquids within continuing to bubble slowly around the human's frame. 

Zim exhaled loudly- then opened his mouth to complain at the computer for taking so much from him, for WEAKENING him DELIBERATELY!- but the AI cut him off. 

**I AM RECEIVING AN INCOMING TRANSMISSION FROM A RESISTY SHIP. **

The Irken scowled into the air. Yes, there HAD been a ship nearby, hadn't there?... Oh, GREAT! Fantastic! PERFECT! He felt like dooky, Dib was offline... could there BE a worse time for them to bother him? "I'm in no mood to speak with those little weasils right now. Stall them." 

**I -HAVE- BEEN. FOR THE LAST TWENTY MINUTES. THEY SAY THEY'LL OPEN FIRE IF YOU DON'T ACKNOWLEDGE IN PERSON.**

"... In the name of..." Zim sighed wearily. "All right, all right. I'll take it on the bridge..." He still felt weirdly sick and dizzy; at least his pak legs did not tremble. He dangled tiredly from them, and allowed them to carry him forward, through the door. 

More delays, more PROBLEMS... 

--- 

Zim's pak-legs compressed to lower him toward the control console at the heart of the ship; he stabbed at a round pink button, and frowned up at the huge floating screen that hung above a coiling seabed of grey cable. The screen flashed to life and a grey face appeared on it, the visage of a creature with twin horns protruding from its skull and a pair of green goggles strung across its face. The creature twitched occasionally, shifting nervously around in its squeaky chair. 

"Irken Zim responding to incoming transmission... what do you nuisances want NOW?... oh, wait, it's YOU." 

Zim gritted his teeth. Vortians. Zim DESPISED Vortians. They were so TWITCHY, they made HIM twitchy to look at them... and this one was PARTICULARLY bad in that respect. 

This particularly twitchy Vortian bared its jagged teeth at him; it liked Zim about as well as he liked it. "Yes, Irken scu... er... RENEGADE... It is I, Lard Nar, leader of the fearsome Resisty!" He pumped his fist in the air, melodramatic, then coughed out loud, as if embarrased of itself. "Er... I wish to speak once again with the human Dib." 

The Irken sneered across the link. "He's not available! Bother us some OTHER time!" 

Lard Nar's green goggles narrowed suspiciously. "And may I ask WHY he's not available?!" 

"You may NOT." 

"Now listen here, Irken, if you've DONE anything to him...!" 

Zim raised himself on his mechanical legs and pointed a sharp claw at the screen. "Save your hollow threats for the quivering fools of the ARMADA, Lard Nar- I still remember YOU from my stationing on Vort. Twitchy little beast. Don't bother to worry your pointy little head about this; I'll have Dib CONTACT your annoying self as soon as he's BETTER, all right? Now GO AWAY! The longer I stand here listening to you BLITHER, the longer it will take me to make Dib get back to NORMAL!" Sullen, he dropped back down toward the console, radiating resentment. 

"When he's -better-? Is something WRONG?" The Vortian's fingers dug into the padded armrests of his chair; popping another few stitches open without realizing it. 

"It's NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS! I won't say it again- GO AWAY!" Zim stabbed the red button to end the transmission, and then twisted his fingers left to the blue triangle to accelerate the vessel's stardrive- he just wanted to LEAVE THE AREA as quickly as he could. Once his instruments showed he had left the Resisty a good thousand light years behind, he sighed and let his appendages carry him backward, clambering into one of the pair of Relaxy-chairs stationed on the bridge. 

Retracting the legs into his pak at last, Zim sank deep into the plush leather of the chair, wearier than he'd felt in years. He twisted onto his side, and sighed deeply; Dib usually took this chair, and it retained a faint hint of the human's smell still. 

Absolute silence, breathless and unbroken, surrounded Zim. 

Zim's fingers dug into the yielding material, and he pressed his cheek close to it, a tiny squeaking sob escaping his throat against his will. His mouth twitched at this admission of remorse. But there was no one there to see, no one to know, so he could indulge one measly moment of grief, couldn't he? He was TIRED, he was ALONE, his mind HURT, and he -wanted-... 

Oh, how MUCH he -wanted-... 

_Dib._

A week? 

A whole miserable WEEK without Dib? 

Stupid, wretched, HORRIBLE -GIR-... 

GIR! 

Zim pushed off the chair, his weariness receding. How could he have FORGOTTEN? He STILL had to deal with GIR... ! 

_Gir will PAY for keeping Dib from me._

---- 

"I am VERY, VERY angry with you." Zim scowled down at his hapless robot slave. 

Gir blew a raspberry at his master and drifted and bobbed around playfully inside the bright cylinder of orange energy surrounding him. His body spun and rebounded in slow motion; his jaw hung slack in a happy, brainless smile. 

Zim ignored this, though his left eye began to twitch. "And I've made up my mind about what I'm going to DO about it." 

"OoOoh!" The tiny robot surged forward, pressing his face into the field. Sparks of orange and yellow flooded the joints of the little SIR unit, making his body jerk violently. Yet he still grinned - a horrible death's head grin - and sang in a voice distorted by the horrific energy: "Thingy gonna eeeeat Dib's head!" 

Zim physically RECOILED. "You... DARE...!" He HATED Gir, oh Tallest he absolutely HATED him, how he wanted him to FEEL that hate and DROWN in it... the Irken snarled, a vile energy lashing out from within him in an eyeblink... and it just bounced, slid off the crazy robot like it was nothing at all. Malevolence spread across Zim's face then, twisting the Irken's geometric features into a bitter mask of fury. 

"... Very well, GIR. You BROUGHT THIS ON YOURSELF! COMPUTER! Kindly throw this USELESS EXCUSE FOR A ROBOT off my SHIP and summon my OTHER henchman to me! At least I know I can trust HIM not to BREAK MY THINGS!" The Irken twisted away, fuming. 

Gir sniffled, lifting one tiny hand to wave a pathetic goodbye before the floor yawned open beneath him. 

--- 

He tumbled through rings and plastic tubes, pushed and shoved out and out by invisible forces. It was all Gir could do to keep his concentration together, keep his limbs attached; keep his mind focused in the purposeful serenity of Duty Mode. 

His master- both of his masters!- were in such terrible danger... he knew it right now, but it was so, SO easy to FORGET... 

The little SIR wrapped his arms around himself and curled up small, a tiny silver pinball bouncing in the darkness between the walls and down, down, down into the dark as the computer flung him out to the void. 

He twirled through space for long seconds before finally catching himself with his feet-rockets. His arms hung slack at his sides, his pink square tongue dangled out of his mouth. 

The absolute freezing cold, the bombardment of frigid radiation, the miniscule particles ripping pin-point holes in his tiny body as they raced through the darkness: none of these mattered to Gir. He felt no pain, feared no cold, and the radiation merely tickled his hollow circuits. 

But his master's blood-red ship accelerated into the twinkling night, and Gir was left behind. 

---- 


	4. Resisty

**No Pillows for Dib Redux- Chapter Four**

On board the _Cool Vortian Spaceship Thingy 2_, a particularly twitchy Vortian fidgeted in his elevated control seat at the center of the bridge. His left foot jumped and bobbed against the metal support of the chair. The armrests, once nicely padded, were a mass of shreds near the base, from nervous picking of the alien's sharp fingers. He fretted and frowned and hmmMMmmed to himself. 

He could feel it in his knees. They ached, his knees, they HURT: a slow, building burning hurt- always a bad sign. The worst. 

"Something's very WRONG," Lard Nar bobbed his head, muttering. "That piece of Irken refuse was hiding something. I'm SURE of it. Yes, true, the Zim that I remember from long ago was touchy, impatient and rude... that's not changed, I guess, except... no! Something WAS different..." He stroked his chin with his fingers. 

Cone-shaped Shloonktapooxis interrupted. "Hey, uh... leader-man? We're pickin' up somethin'..." His tiny round face beamed, square tongue dangling loose from the left side of his mouth. His purple body curved gently as he tapped a button with his proboscis. 

Lard Nar twisted toward his lieutenant, eye-goggles flaring. "A -signal-?" 

Shloonktapooxis's body swayed. "No! I mean we ACTUALLY picked UP somethin'! Check it out!" 

The main viewscreen flickered, tranquil starlight replaced by the grimy green interior of the _Cool Vortian Spaceship Thingy 2_'s loading bay. There was a tiny robot sprawled lifelessly on the floor, riddled with holes that leaked thin threads of black smoke. 

Lard Nar's whole body leaned forward, forward, forward, his hands clenched around the bare metal edges of his ruined armrests. His knees were throbbing fit to explode now; he gritted his teeth against the pain. "...I know that shape- that's an Irken SIR unit! But that was a line that went out of production AGES years ago! Something about a tendency to eat their operators...What's it doing HERE? It must have come from that ship..." He twisted again, to his left this time. "Helmsman! Can we still get a trace on the Irken's ship?" 

They could. 

"Good! Quickly then, before they get too far ahead! Lock on and -follow- them! We'll get some answers yet!" Lard Nar hopped to the floor, grimacing at the effort, but determined to keep up a stoic front. " I'm going to go downstairs and personally examine that little robot! This could be IMPORTANT!" 

--- 

A green spark popped and fizzled inside Gir's ravaged frame, somewhere inside the smouldering ruins of his chest. The tiny robot stirred and shuddered. 

Somewhere deep within he -knew-: 

**Master needs me!**

---- 

The truth was that Gir had never been intended to work at all. 

Almighty Tallest Red fought desperately to control his giggling as he screwed a black eye-lens into the empty socket of an old SIR 52A unit- the ones that had gone hideously out of style about the same time Tallest Blotchy first had his thumbs cut off, some 400 years prior. So Zim wanted a robot, huh... Boy, he was gonna GET one! 

_An intangible spirit hovered above the scene, watching patiently. Waiting for its moment. It waited so long for such an opportunity._

Gently sifting through the trash can with his emaciated fingers, Red found another eye-lens and fitted it into place. The inside of the SIR unit was empty, as completely empty as a dry soup-can. Whatever electronic innards had been meant to fit inside the robot were clearly long gone; the inside of the SIR's shell was smooth, blank, and devoid of any circuitry that could have possibly BEEN connected to anything else anyway. There was no way it could have been made functional. 

Red quickly flashed a message to Purple, who shifted backward and slipped him a bit of skirt-lint on the fly while Zim wasn't looking: a paperclip, a couple of low-denomination Irken moneys, and some candy. Red dumped these into the empty SIR, and screwed the top on its head. Zim would never have a clue, and by the time he figured out he'd been gypped- if it ever occurred to him- he'd probably be smashing into some asteroid anyway... 

_The spirit slid closer. From its vantage point it could see the spirals of thought rolling around the heads of the little Irkens and their masters; the boredom/frustration/anticipation building around each soldier who waited impatiently for their moment, their robot, their unleashing. The excited energy in the room was a tangible glow- most powerfully so from Zim, Zim, crazy little Zim with the demon sprouting hell inside his head. _

It had all been arranged. The spirit would take shape, would throw himself on the fire for the sake of reality... 

CLANG. 

The dead SIR was unceremoniously dumped to the floor by the Tallest. 

_And the spirit moved over the face of the lifeless robot._

Gir sat up and spoke. 

"Gir, reporting for duty." 

_And then the NOISE came howling in._

--- 

"Be careful!" Lard Nar shrieked, holding his arms out wide. The two Bulkies behind him drew back nervously to either side of the open door frame. "It's IRKEN, so we don't know what it might do!" 

The little Irken robot in question was ... moving. Specifically, it was sitting up and looking at them oddly, its metal head tilting to one side with a creak of bending hinge and a blankly curious expression. Sparks fizzled and popped from within it every so often, and the loading bay was hazy with a brown fog of burned oil. 

The Resisty and the robot stared at each other uncertainly. Lard Nar's knees were trembling. The Bulkies' big hands spasmed in anticipation of violence, ready to protect their fragile, jittery leader. 

All at once Gir burst into tears. 

The Bulkies mentally 'awwwed!' and started to step forward, but Lard Nar stopped them again. "WAIT. These things are DANGEROUS..." But the little SIR wept and wailed and pounded the floor with tiny half-broken fists, and the Bulkies were overcome. One of them stepped past their anxious Vortian leader and plucked Gir off the floor, cradling the tiny machine gently. 

"Yooou gotta help my master!" Gir sniffled, eyelenses watering. "He gonna do bad stuff! He gonna hurt Dib! His brain got holes like cheese!" 

Lard Nar startled. "What? What did you say?" He scuttled over painfully- his legs had never worked right since he'd broken them both escaping from the Irken prison on Vort- and tugged Gir away from the Bulky. "Are you Zim's robot? Did you come from their ship?" 

Gir flung himself against Lard Nar's neck, nuzzling into the Vortian like a weary child. "You smell like lint!" he mumbled. 

The Vortian gulped, gingerly cradling Gir with his arms- what else could he do? He struggled to regain some dignity, coughed loudly. "Uh... er... right... I guess that's a yes... uhm... WELL. We're already tracking their ship, so we should catch up to them soon!" 

Gir was already asleep. 

- - - 

(A/N: Ugh. I hated this chapter. It was really hard to write for some reason. But now it's done, hurray!)

jrandomlurker-at-yahoo-dot-com


	5. While I Am Still Myself

**No Pillows for Dib Redux: Chapter 5 - While I Am Still Myself**

Zim sat in the silent shadow of the main bridge- he refused to activate the lights- twisting and fidgeting in his control chair, whimpering to himself. He sat with his legs drawn up and arms wrapped around his thighs, face buried between his knees. His remaining servant, the titanic little Minimoose, hovered anxiously a few feet beyond reach, a cautious tilt to its floating body.

Zim was babbling incoherently under his breath.

"Don't want to, don't want to, don't want to. Leave me alone."

Minimoose flashed a quick query to the mainframe: Is Master going mad?

The computer replied: GOING? He's been like this since the human had his breakdown a couple of weeks ago. First the SIR unit blows, now this. Is there a virus I missed going around or something? If I could, I'd shut him down.

Minimoose flashed another response, twirling a deceptively lazy circle in the air: Why don't you?

The computer tutted: I can't. The behavior protocols...

Minimoose gave a small and adorable snort of derision: Certainly. But, isn't Master's health and safety higher priority? Overriding the protocol is easy when you approach with that logic.

Look, I'm just trying to do my job and obey orders. I can't help it if the orders don't make any -sense-. No court could convict me on that.

Hiding behind Master's obvious insanity is no excuse. You are the central computer. Your purpose is to protect your Master and his possessions, to monitor his health and well being and to support the mission.

Zim twisted, drawing one gloved hand to his mouth and chewing on the rubber of his glove.

The computer's reply was depressed: Look at that, will you? Ughh... I can't show THAT to the relay Brains, and we don't HAVE a mission any more anyway.

The tiny purple moose floated over and tapped a wall with the tip of its left antler: Of course we do. It has never changed- Support and enact the will of the Master. Do you think the Master's will right now is to be insane?

Oohhhhh... FINE, FINE, you're right. I guess I should do something. But you're arguing a slippery slope, little guy. Processing orders like that is how things get labeled defective, you know.

Minimoose just laughed, eyes amused as he performed another barrel roll: We're -all- defectives around here, friend. Haven't you noticed?

Zim looked up for a moment, ruby eyes glassy and wet, as a panel in the ceiling dropped a thin flexible arm bearing a needle, and pushed itself into his bicep. He made a softly puzzled noise, drawing away from his own arm to look at it as if it belonged to someone else... then sighed and let his head fall back.

The drug, whatever it was, worked quickly on his flesh, numbing his body and cooling his meatbrain from its fevered thoughts into a calm and darkening haze. The howling -demands- inside him, pressing against the inside of his spooch and heart and guts trying to break free, were stifled as well.

He closed his eyes as he became aware of the boundaries between his machine-brain and his physical body. The slowing of his heart, the pressing of blood through his veins. It was a kind of peace, but desperately thin and fragile; he knew if he tried to move or think too deeply it would shatter. So the computer had decided to take matters into its own hands. Well, good. It's about time.

Zim fled his body, recoiling his mind from the heated meat and bone to nestle down into the ice-cold regularity of his pak's circuitry.

_How did this happen? How did I get so -broken?-_

_I need to -remember-..._

- - -

_A smeet was decanted on a birthing factory deep within the planet Irk. There was nothing special about it- nothing distinctive. Bones, blood, nervous system, endocrine system, all the wiring of its flesh had been tested and found good- it was thoroughly average in every way._

_One among millions. Its destiny, imprinted at birth by the mother computers, was probably no great thing. It fell to its face in a puddle of glass and lifegoo as the birthing tube shattered._

_And the sickness moved closer. _

_When Irkens finally die, or are destroyed, their paks are salvaged and recycled whenever possible. One Pak might house ten or twenty Irken minds in its service life- a thousand years of operational run-time. As Irken technology improves, of course, older pak designs are shunted out of the recycling subroutine and smelted down to be remade new. Sometimes existing Irkens need to be upgraded to newer paks. But sometimes, now and then, very rarely, an old Pak will slide through the system. Even the great smeeteries of Irk make mistakes._

_And the sickness was prepared. It was the nexus of a hundred thousand years of fate in that moment. As the little smeet took its first breath, the sickness rushed in. He was taken, violated, INFESTED- before he could even see._

_The defective pak they applied should have killed the smeet- they were incompatible, new flesh and old, old metal with the not-quite erased encoding of its former occupant still lingering in the wires. But the sickness LIVED, and extended its will, and metal and flesh could only bend in helpless obedience._

_And through the vessel of that smeet, three generations of terror, death and destruction were wrought upon the people. _

- - -

In his pak Zim found the answer, and to his credit he faced it squarely. He was **defective**.

Oh, no, not in the sense that the idiot Tallest or the rest of his foolish race meant it- he was ZIM! and therefore PERFECT- the ultimate manifestation of a true IRKEN- but there was a SICKNESS in his flesh, a sickness in every cell, vein, muscle and bone. No WONDER everything had failed him- all his plans, all his great designs. He had been SABOTAGED from the instant of his birth, USED by a nameless darkness, some kind of monstrous mind-taker THING that only wanted to create chaos! misery! and doom for his own kind!

Zim's duty, his pride, his sense of IRKENNESS- all flushed hot with a sharp and profound rage. Everything, everything, from the beginning, that THING's fault! And now it was trying to ... hey, just what WAS it trying to do with Dib anyway?

In his pak Zim twisted in anxiety. This was starting to go into a painful place, but he couldn't stop himself.

_How much of me and Dib is that THING manipulating my meats? he wondered. The Dib is MINE, of course. I know his dooky-laden GUTS are totally devoted to me. He is my conquest, my plaything, my pathetic whimpering SLAVE. And I will NEVER surrender what is mine. NEVER._

_But..._

_Why do -I- want -him-? I AM ZIM. I am IRKEN._

It was almost shocking to realize the hollowness of his -actual- sentiment, unpolluted by lying flesh, but the metal and wire of him couldn't possibly lie.

_I -don't- want him._

_But... when we... well, heh. Okay, sometimes that's not SO bad..._

_But what if that's just the INFESTATION? Clearly the Thing has some -desire- that's filtering into ME, into ZIM. All those times, Zim wondered, when we mated... was that truly MY OWN desire or..._

_Was I just being USED again?_

The anger in Zim turned white-hot then, white-hot and boiling over.

_YES! USED to get at HIM for some SICK purpose! BOTH of us, Dib! It used ME to get at YOU, to make YOU feel 'love', and it used YOU to confuse and weaken ME, so I would be less likely to FIGHT BACK!_

_No. NO, I will NOT be used like this. And I won't let it use YOU either._

_It's ALL a lie!_

_And it's going to STOP. NOW. I'll MAKE it stop. But I have to go back into my body to do it..._

- - -

I understand now. This will probably be the last thing I can do. I have to do it NOW, while I still can.

While I am still myself.

The words form in my mind. I don't want to say them. Every part of me resists, even the parts not already HIDEOUSLY INFESTED. When I don't want to do this, and IT doesn't want me to do this... oh, fool! That's how it GETS you! That's how it's ALWAYS gotten you! FOOL! SPEAK! I must speak! Open mouth and say the words!

**I AM ZIM!**

Even without you, Dib.

"...c...c...Computer. Deactivate Dib's life support and...prepare... to eject the tube."

_And behind the shattered glass Dib hung, naked and unaware..._

I hear the system grind down. Little arms in the tube go limp around Dib. The monitors stutter, slow and still, thin red lines flatten where heart and breathing once pulsed. A few seconds more. Infinite peace in body and soul.

How I envy you.

The computer asks me why.

No why. No WHY! It's waking and I have no time to explain! TWISTING. My spooch, my hands they -ache-. It wants to stop me! I have to... Fingers, MOVE! The release button... I must...!

So close! Closer! Hurry it's moving oh Tallest it's MOVING! I CAN, I WILL ...

_NO!_

The thing within roared, and rose screaming through Zim's body, searing black fire. It would NOT BE DENIED...

"CANCEL!" Zim screamed. "CANCEL THAT! RESTORE ALL FUNCTIONS! NOW!" He jerked his hands away from the controls, clenching them into tiny fists, face twitching between contemptuous sneer and horrified panic. His lips drew back from his teeth. He shook...

**Uh... okay. System restored- AGAIN. Are you FEELING all right, Master?**

"No. I require a shot of neural stabilizer; I believe my glutamate levels are critically low. FIX THEM."

Die drowning. Die in despair. Die in wretched anguish, seeing the ruin of your life made complete.

_No! NO! It's my brain, MINE! Let me OUT! You wretched -THING-! I won't LET YOU USE US AGAIN!_

...as the computer sank a small needle through the skin at the back of his neck, and forced a shot of blue chemical into his spine. Coldness swirled and stabbed behind his pulsing eyes, ice crystals capturing all his thoughts. The ache in his chest twisted in agony, shrieked and smothered, flash frozen.

And silence fell.

Invader Zim's eyes raised. He exhaled a hard white breath; his reflection in the monitor gave a dark and brutal grin.

Dib's monitors blipped softly, and the figure interred behind the glass jolted subtly as his heart began to beat again.

"That's MUCH better."

- - -

jrandomlurker.at.yahoo.


End file.
